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Saturday, July 16, 2016

Cracked Flash: Year 2, Week 3!

Hi hi everybody. I've had exactly 4 hours of sleep in the last 36 hours so I do not think it would be prudent to make this introduction any longer than it needs to be, otherwise you'll get a lot of "LOL"s and "XDD"s because everything is funny right now.

How: Submit your stories as a comment to this post, along with your name, word count, and title (and Twitter handle or blog if you've got 'em!). One entry per person.Deadline: Midnight tonight, PDT!Results announced: Next Wednesday afternoon.Remember: Your entry must begin with the prompt! The prompt can be mutilated, but not beyond recognition. (Pictures do not need to be incorporated into your stories, they're for inspiration (and sometimes our amusement)).

16 comments:

"I need to talk to a human," he demanded. "You're just a-- figurehead." Yasin crinkled his nose and reflexively shut his eyes against the whiff of decomposition that slithered into his senses. The stench pervaded the whole block, but it was savagely cloying, this close. Black flies skittered in a turbulent cloud and then settled back into their business, whirring their putrescent songs.

Behind him his neighbors furtively pulled out their phones and began to record him. None dared laugh.

"You couldn't cooperate, could you, apostate." Yasin grabbed the ashen, sweat-slicked hair of the young Kurd he'd killed days ago. He wound the greasy locks in his fingers for a good, tight grip, and ripped it from the stake where it had presided over the corner of Babis and Sandz streets for the past three days. Taunting him.

His botched decapitation had been viewed more than 24 thousand times on YouTube.

Yasin, struggling with the dull blade, had tugged and twisted the Kurd's head while his eyes blanked into oblivion. The neck. Yasin hadn't considered how tough the neck would be, like those stubborn cypresses his father bade him cut. He'd get partway through and then the green, fleshy insides would be too strong for his pathetic tool. He'd twist and pull but the sinews wouldn't break.

The video showed his comrades in the background laughing at Yasin's ineptness, at his arms trembling with exertion, slick with sweat. A drop of Yasin's saliva fell onto the Kurd's cheek, but they said Yasin cried for him.

It was his first time.

The neck defied him, disturbed him to the point of madness. The past three days Yasin invented and fortified a defense for his wounded pride: That man was not human. No human being had that much resistance in his body.

He was a tall creature, graced with a fleshy face besmudged with the slightest dribble oozing down his globular lips, blessed with a horse’s tail hair-piece that cried out for a mother’s love of good grooming.

He stood slightly humped over, leaning forward as if his basket-of-a-belly, a not unimpressive ode to the pleasures of home brewed root beer and greased pork finger food, was insistently seeking the comfort of the ground if only it were not for his proclivity to pose and pontificate.

“Do you know who I am?” he bellowed.

Hoping this the beginning of a possible philosophical pronouncement, I answered, “If you know who you are, that should be sufficient.”

Contrary to my intent, this observation seemed to inflame his chi. His eyes flared red and his quite attractive nose began to pulsate.

“I HAVE NO TIME FOR YOUR CODSWADDLE,” he bellowed. “I have had enough of robotic underlings,” he continued, momentarily seeming to blunt his bluster. This gesture proved momentary and he shifted back into harangue gear. “I NEED A HUMAN. I AM THE PRESUMPTIVE.”

Fearing a further explosion of ire, I calmly tried to explain the situation to him. “Sir, I understand that you are the Presumptive. Congratulations, by the way.”

My overture appeared to calm him just a mite and so I continued to share the information the Chairman had given me.

“The Presumptive, Assumptive,Consumptive and Trumptive Credentials Committee, which I believe you know is comprised equally of humans and The Others, is currently In Camera. We expect them shortly. Please, have a seat.”

This may have been a faux pas as he and his entourage numbered in the hundreds.

"I need to talk to a human," he demanded, "not this monster". His voice deep and firm, more of a growl than a polite request. He looked up and could see the same reflection he always saw. Had he taken it too far this time? Sure it started as a bit of fun but it soon spiralled out of control. What sort of animal was he? Hijacking the shopping trolley was one thing, and yes knocking over the old lady could be seen as careless, but the giant cuddly bear? He considered himself an animal lover and one head on collision had thrown everything he had ever believed in into uncertainty. What next, casually putting some fish fingers in his shopping basket? He had problems now, morethan just the bear with the literal stuffing knocked out of it. He was questioning his whole belief system.

The knock at the window startled him, although he was glad to hear it. Only one person knocked that way. Usually he didn't miss a step but tonight he could feel his face glow like a superser, embarrassment for sure. Unlatching the window, the cool breeze from the night air that she brought with her was cold against his cheek but did little to quell the heat emitting from his cheek.

"That was quite the performance. Shame about the, well you know".

"You know me, always the showman. Doesn't get any more graceful, does it?". He tried to joke but it sounded as monotone as that geography teacher they had in school. Truth was he had mutilated a bear, real or not it was a representative of the animal world. How he could live with himself or atone for what he had done?

I need to talk to a human: that was my one only need, but they all needed something else.

I remember how so many people came, but not the right one. I needed to talk to a human. Not an officer, not a psychologist or counsellor, but a human. Someone who didn’t dissect each word, analyse each muscle flicker or peel me apart for the bits they wanted. I needed to talk to someone who’d listen to me…. I did try. I sat and talked, and they listened but didn’t hear. They took their bits and did their jobs. Maybe they thought they could patch me together with ‘job-well-dones’ and positive outcomes.

But I needed to talk to a human. The need gouged me out, leaving me hollow. And into that depression dripped all the bitterness of unheard words, where everything else drowned.

And then I found you...years later: in a park, smirking at my shoes and sodden clothes while rain poured down. You offered me coffee from your Thermos as an apology and shared your umbrella.

In my words, so inconsequential at the time, you heard what I couldn’t say, and in yours, I caught what I needed to hear. So while the rain hid my tears, we talked of so many things, shielded and warm, and the storm passed through and over me.

That was years ago, but I’ll never forgot the hours with you. I don’t even know your name or where you are now, but I still have your umbrella and make coffee when the world threatens to storm, and I go out to talk to humans, to hear the words that they cannot say.

Benjamin Langley@b_j_langley297 wordsUntitled Space Squirrel Story"I need to talk to a human," he demanded.The squirrel he’d taken down lie between them, liquid ruby pulsing from the wound on his head.The others closed ranks around him, their bushy tails erect, tiny spears held aloft in their paws.They said he’d been nuts to come to this planet, of all those they’d detected life on, but it was the nuts that the Earthlings so badly needed if they were to sustain life back home. He’d been trained to deal with threats and malicious beings, but not with sapient squirrels and his decision to lash out had left one of their number dead, and rest agitated. “Are there humans here?” he asked again, trying to maintain the strength in his voice.A gap appeared in the ranks and a red squirrel, seemingly the only one among a sea of black emerged.“You,” the red squirrel said, in a voice that was high-pitched at first, but became deeper as he progressed, “are the first human to set foot on this land for one hundred years.The human did not see the black squirrels in the shadows.“And we shall do to you,” continued the red squirrel, “as we did to them.”He didn’t see them leap. So many black squirrels jump upon him that he was utterly powerless. This fighting force knew where to bite to take down an enemy, and soon the human was prone. “We know you want our nuts...” said the red squirrel as two petite grey squirrels burrowed into his space suit through holes chewed at the ankles and squirmed up him legs.The red squirrel continued, a half-smile forming on his rodent face, “but we need yours too.”Upon reaching their destination, the petite grey squirrels bit with precision.

“I need to talk to a human.” The Sumatran tiger pounded his paws. The clearing fell silent, except for the crickets. They never knew when to stop. This was a special hearing, and the representative member from each species was present.Finally, the Komodo Dragon spoke.“It is forbidden. Has been for generations.”The tiger paced in irritation. “What good has our silent treatment brought? Humans become more incomprehensible every generation. My bloodline’s end has been prophesied by their hand. We must act.”“That same prophecy also saw them as your saviors.”The tiger gave a short, angry growl. The herbivores took a step back. “Saviors? Can they earn such a title when they are also our destruction? I wish to avoid such a need. My species is not the only one that faces problems. They’ll come for us all soon.”The dragon hissed. “Humans are nothing we can’t handle.”The Muntjac tilted its wide, heavy antlers forward, a defensive position and habit around such as the tiger and dragon. “What harm do we risk? Just one human? If the tiger—”The rhinoceros scoffed. “Of course you’d consider it. Their precious barking deer. Humans play favorites, but don’t be fooled. They care not. They deserve their banishment.”A roar of whispers filled the clearing.The tiger roared. “This is not about forgiveness. Not about inviting them back. I only need one to listen.”“A unanimous vote is required,” said the dragon. “I vote no. Fend for yourself as we all must.”

Hours later, as the sun sliced the horizon, the tiger waited at the water’s edge. The same spot he’d seen the girl countless times before, gathering water. No longer surprised by one another, they met at a distance. He would be banished for this. But he had to try.

“Sir, I am as human as you are,” the striking syntho-human receptionist said, “How can I help you?”

“I want a new life,” the man sighed, “I hate who I am.”

“All you need do, sir, is take this electopad and go to Area 3,” she said, handing him the pad, directing him to the room at the end of the hall.He was a sight to behold in the minimally decorated life transition office, standing 6 foot something, very debonair and gaunt. To the rest of the transhuman and extraterrestrial patients in the office, waiting for a new life, he was out of his element.

“AGE?” The robotic electropad softly requested of the man.

“Age?” The mouthed to the square electropad. He couldn’t remember the last birthday he celebrated, so he went with a random age, 325. He was a werewolf under all that pale flesh, but he longed to be something he had not been in a long time.

“Who do you want to be?” The electropad asked, in a cold, emotionless, yet feminine cadence.

“Human again,” he said.

“Why?”

“This life is hard on the head.”

“This is not an acceptable answer,” the voice on the pad changed from soft to sharp. Feeling frustrated, he wanted to throw it up against the wall, but his intuition guided him to the right answer.

“I want to be alive,” The electropad went silent for a second. The red light under the processing room door blinking as it made its decision.

“Request granted.” The light under the door turned to green, which opened to a room that was warm and welcoming to him.

"I need to talk to a human," he demanded. Frank ran his hands through his greasy white hair and scratched his beard. His gaze met Nurse Jackson’s and she quickly looked away; Frank’s eyes were red and puffy with tears.

“I’m sorry; you have to fill out these forms first. Then, you’ll be assigned a number. Please sit over there and wait for your number to be called, just like it the sign says.” She pointed to the sign, handed him a clipboard and continued walking.

He turned and grabbed her arm. “No, you don’t understand,” he continued, “My friend, his foot is frozen. Look at it.” He tightened his grip on her arm. “Look at it,” he insisted.

Nurse Jackson stopped in mid-step. Chester sat in the orange plastic chair, his left foot draped over his right knee. Chester’s toes were black. The rest of his foot was dark and covered in white blisters.

“We’ve been sleeping down under the bridge, and usually we get by okay.” Frank took a deep breath. “This last cold blast has done us in. Not just the cold, but the snow. Now, I’m not the type that normally complains about things, and this isn’t for me, it’s for Chester. I’m afraid he’s going to lose that foot if someone doesn’t do something.”

Nurse Jackson looked around the crowded ER waiting room. There were children coughing, their moms hugging them and covering them with blankets. An old man was clutching his chest while his wife held his hand. A teenager vomited in the corner.

“Grab that wheelchair,” Nurse Jackson nodded to Frank. “Let’s get Chester in back before it’s too late.”

“Thank you,” Frank said. “I knew if I could talk to a human, someone would help us.”

“I need… I need to speak with a human!” he whispered huskily, cautiously casting a darting look behind him to see if he was overhead.

Lalia shuddered. The Rulers had expressly forbidden even the mere mention of those words! This stranger was going to get her in trouble. She had dabbled on the wrong side of the law occasionally in the past but she’s never been in as much danger with the Government as she was this very moment.

She tried to put on an airy smile and said with a shaky laugh, “Come now, Great Ashelon. You must not jest so. How about instead, I…”

“No!” He exploded, pounding his fist on the table, sending the items on it bouncing up in the air.

“Calm down!” She whispered back harshly with both hands upraised. “Keep your voice down! Do you want to get us in trouble?”

“Listen to me” he said, less loudly, but his voice still as insistent.

“I am part of the Resistance. You know the conditions our people have been in for the past number of years. You can’t run this shop of yours and pretend like things are not wrong. I’m telling you there’s no other way out of this mess we got ourselves into. We have to get through to a human right away!”

Lalia stared at him… then sighed resignedly. He was right. The medium had thought about this for long but never had the courage… the push she needed. She reached out to join hands with the other god across the cloudy table. She saw better now that he also was flickering and fading away around the edges. Many of them were suffering from the Dissipation.

“Okay. Let’s see if we could channel one of them… get them believing in us again”